


Pictures On The Wall

by DustyTravel (TinyAl)



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Parents, But shes gone sooo, F/F, F/M, Fluff and Angst and Sadness, Friends to Lovers (maybekindasorta?), I'm doin' a thing!, M/M, Marco was with an oc i guess???, Marco with darlin twin girls, Mean Grandmothers, Over worked Marco, Photographer Jean, Single Parent!AU, SingleParent!Marco, Social Workers, bad language
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-26
Updated: 2015-02-13
Packaged: 2018-02-22 15:38:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 15,793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2512919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TinyAl/pseuds/DustyTravel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Marco is a newly single parent, learning to take care of his twin daughters, whose Mother was taken too soon and too fast. Now he's fighting a war that he can't afford to loose. He needs the girls just as much as they need him, but life is not a fairy tale. He keeps it together for his girls and himself, but some days it seems that he's fighting an up hill battle.</p><p>Jean is a frustrated photographer and artist who, in a horribly thought out plan, goes to the quiet town of Shiganshinain in hopes of finding his lost muse. What he didn't expect is to find a little lost girl, from a tiny little family. And when he meets Marco, he doesn't think he's ever met a man that looks so happy, yet tired at the same time.</p><p>What they don't realize is just how much they needed each other in their lives.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Good Morning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marco is a good Papa.

If Marco had his way, he would never, ever, have to leave his bed. He’d never have to touch the cold dark wood of his room and he’d never have to stop having such a wonderful dream about warm smiles and caramel coffee. But Marco was an adult. An adult who had responsibilities.

_‘Knock knock’_

Responsibilities that were at his door.

“Papa?”

Responsibilities that were currently wearing pale pink night gowns.

“Papa!”

Responsibilities that he’d love till the end of time and he'd do anything for.

“Papa, get up! You said you would make pancakes!”

And of course there were the responsibilities that he groaned at, and one of them was trying to bake the perfect pancakes for two very picky food critics.

“Papa!” The little voice squeaked again as his bed shifted slightly. “Get up! Up up up!”

Marco cracked an eye open to peer at two bleary shapes, who were trying with all their might to shake his shoulders, not noticing his open eye yet. He felt the smile grow on his face, before throwing his arm over his face with a dramatic groan. “But I don’t wanna get out of bed! Its soooo warm and comfy! Nooo I think I just stay and sleep.”

“You promised Papa! We want pancakes!” The little menaces started jumping up and down on his bed, in an attempt to wake him, while chanting. “Pan-cakes! Pan-cakes! Pan-cakes!”

Marco smiled as he looked at the two from under the shadow of his elbow. He let them continue for a few seconds more before he sprang up and wrapped his arms around them. The shouts were cut off and replaced by laughing squeals as Marco dragged them to his chest and riddled their faces and hair with kisses.

And if Marco had his way, he’d stay here, in this moment, with his baby girls, in the warmth and smiles and laughs. But the adult world was calling, and if he wanted to pay the bills, then he had no choice but answer. But first, he had pancakes to make.  
\-----

Dressed in the finest of pajamas- _(which consisted of sweat pants and and a loose t-shirt)_ -Marco Bodt happily sang along to the little radio, which stuck out like a sore thumb in the modern kitchen surrounds, thanks to the princess and cartoon characters stuck all around it. The modern house was accompanied by toys of various colors and sizes, thanks to the two little girls that were laughing and singing as well as pointing at him.

“Ivory Bodt!” Marco gave an over dramatic gasp to one of the freckled little ones as he flipped another pancake. “Are you laughing at _my_ singing?”

“Papa's so silly!” Ivory giggled again, her sister, joining in.

“Papa can sing! But you can’t dance!” Demetra laughed as she clutched her panda bear to her chest.

“Well I beg to differ!” Marco huffed as he turned in a full circle, spatula turning into a makeshift microphone as the tempo sped up and the words got louder. “Come on! Come on! Jump a little higher!” The girls joined in and the off key kitchen band returned to its full swing.

"Accidentally in love." Marco sang as he moved the plates to the counter where the girls were. He shut off the radio and pulled up a seat of his own. “So how'd I do?"

“Good." Ivory spoke slowly as she chewed. “But it needs more sap!"

“Papa?” Demetra spoke up, her freckles bunching up as she scrunched her nose in thought. “Do you have to go work?”

Marco sighed as he got up to grab the syrup. “Yes, Demi, but not until late. Mikasa will be here for you tonight. I’m sorry baby.”

“Why are you working so much?” Ivory asked so soft, Marco almost missed it. Then her head snapped up. “Is it ‘cause of Granny?”

Marco so caught off guard that he almost dropped the bottle. He looked at his daughters, and realized once again, that kids pick up on so much more than people realize. He carefully thought over his answer as he drowned Ivory’s pancakes in syrup. “Papa just….Papa just needs to work some things out, ok?” When the girls gave small nods, he smiled again. “Hey, don’t let these pancake go to waste now, eat up!”

The girls backed off and ate in a relative peace. But it only lasted until the plates were put into the sink and the girls had nothing to distract them.

“It _is_ her.” Ivory decided, her mind stearing back to their earlier conversation. “Why is Granny so mean? Why does she hate us so much now?”

“Ivy, your Grandmother doesn't hate you two.” Marco promised, grabbing their small hands in his large, calloused ones. Looking down at them he almost lost himself in memories. He squeezed their hands softly to ground himself back to the world. “Ganny’s….just very sad.”

“Cause of mama?” Demi whispered, her head lowered.

Marco squeezed his eyes shut and bowed his head. Taking a deep breath, Marco rubbed circles into the girls hands. “Yeah...Granny’s sad mama is….is gone.”

“That doesn't mean she has to be so mean!” Ivy snapped, grabbing onto his hand with both of hers. “I don't wanna go! I wanna live with Papa! Her house is smelly and scary and her little doggy is mean and- and-! And I wanna stay with Papa!”

“Me too!” Demi cried out, tears escaping the corner of her eyes. With practiced ease, Marco swiftly lifted both girls into his arms, and held them close.

“She is not taking you.” Marco hated it. It wasn't _fair_. He hated that his life is a war, and that he had to fight for his heart and soul, both of which sat crying into his neck at the moment. He hated that this was happening to often for comfort, and that Marco had to spend too much time at some job to fix it. He hated how hard it was to believe himself sometimes. But he  _wouldn't-_ no he  _couldn't_ - stop fighting. “She won’t. I won’t let her.”

Sobs turned to hiccups, which turned into sniffles. For Marco, it wasn't enough. He wanted smiles and bright unworried eyes. So, with a smile of his own, he set them on the ground and squatted to their height. “Hey…” He waited till they were both looking at him, and then his smile blossomed into one of playfulness. “Wanna go to the park?”

The look of pure excitement brightened made every worry disappear from the front of his mind, though it nagged at him still. But for today, he’d do something right and take his girls to the park.

* * *

  
The park was only walking distance from their cozy two story home, and it took little to no time with the girls practically dragging him down the street. To be fair, he had made them wait until four in the afternoon to go, so they had the right to be excited.

“Come on Papa!" Demi cried as she pulled on his hands. “I wanna slide!"

“And swing!" Ivy chimed. Marco laughed and let himself have a minute to look at the girls. They looked a lot like him, brown eyes, black hair, and freckles spread from cheek to cheek. He noted that Ivory was in a yellow jacket and jeans with yellow boots, and Demi was in a little green hoodie with her favorite blue dress underneath, her small white shoes already untied. Demi was in (uneven) pigtails but Ivy had refused that he put her hair up...probably because he had trouble with it...hence the uneven part.

“So yellow jacket and green hoodie." Marco mumbled to himself as he opened the gate to the play area. The playground area wasn't large, and was closed off from the parks only entrance, but the back was wide open with forests an, and he knew how easy it could be for someones child to disappear in the crowd, so there'd be no taking chances. He resigned himself to the nearest bench and let the girls loose with a cry of ‘Stay in the park!’

He sat watching and waving off invitations to join for several minutes, enjoying the peace, until a voice broke through.

“Well I'll be damned." He'd know that voice anywhere. “Marco Bodt."

Turning to look over his shoulder, he spotted the woman just in time to see her be swatted in the arm by a blond.

“Ymir! There are innocent ears around." Christa scolded her wife, hopping slightly as the toddler in her arms wiggled.

“Im sorry baby. I didn't mean to hurt your innocent ears." Ymir teased, even as she kissed both her wife and her child's head.

“What are you two doing way over here?" Marco asked as he hugged them.

“We're house shopping." Krista grinned as she rubbed circles into Adams back. “The old ones getting small now that there are three people.”

“And so we were in the neighborhood, checkin’ out the park. And then, surprise, I saw you, just sittin’ on a bench. So we thought we'd stop by and say hi to my little baby brother!" Ymir laughed as she locked him in a headlock and messed with his hair.

“Ymir! We’re both adults _and_ parents here!” Marco cried, though he was smiling. She let him go with a smirk that almost screamed; _‘I don’t give two flying fucks.’_

“Hey, Adam, lookie lookie!" Ymir's tone changed completely into one of baby talk as she turned to the blond boy who was tiredly opening his eyes. “It's your uncle Marky!"

Adam blinked once, before yawning out a small. “Hi...Uncle Marky." before he simply laid his head back on his mother's shoulder.

“Its been an exciting day for him." Krista sighed, patting down the boys hair.

“Im going to assume, from you glances at the park, and the fact you three are attached at the hip, that the girls are here?" Ymir spoke up again, poking Marco’s cheek, just as a yellow blur ran up to them.

“Aunty Miri! Aunty Krisy!" Ivy cried as she raced to meet her aunts, running up and hugging Ymir legs.

“You are correct." Marco laughed as he scanned the playground again. _‘Green hoodie, white shoes.’_

“Hey kiddo! Great to see you!" Ymir grinned as she picked up her niece.

“Hey baby." Krista cooed, petting the black curls on Ivy's head. “What have you been up to lately?"

“Papa made us pancakes this morning!" Ivory grinned like she was showing off a trophy. “And sat down and ate with us!"

“Did he now?" Ymir grinned bouncing the girl on her hip before raising an eyebrow at Marco. “How nice of him…..Marco?"

But Marco had his eyes on the playground. _‘Green hoodie, white shoes, pigtails. Green hoodie white shoes, pigtails.'_

Ymir picked up on his worry right away and knew exactly what was wrong. “Ivory where's your sister?"

“I dunno." Ivy shrugged, the serious tone making her shy away.

“Stay with her.” Marco was walking towards the area faster than he could blink, his mind a chant of _‘Green hoodie, white shoes, pigtails, green hoodie, white shoes, pigtails'_

“Demetra! Demetra Madison Bodt!" There's seemed to a thousand people suddenly, and in the blur of faces and colors, he couldn't spot the colors or face he needed to see. _“Demi!"_ But no matter how loud he called, no matter how hard he searched, he knew.

Demi was no longer on the playground.

And he was going to have a _heart attack._

* * *

  
She hadn't _meant_ to get lost. She just was chasing a butterfly, and didn't notice how far she was, until she looked to show her daddy the pretty insect, and realised she was in a new area completely and no one was around. She could barely see over the grass. Instantly she quieted up, playing with the edge of her skirt.

“Papa?" She called out hesitantly, hoping he'd come to her rescue like always. When nothing happened, she gripped the edge of her skirt harder and started to walk back the way she thought she came from.

She cried out as she suddenly tripped over her shoelaces, landing on her hands. She felt the tears overflow as she scraped her knees and hands on the dusty ground. Now she was scared, and in pain. So she did what any lost five year old would do.

She cried for her Papa.

She wasn't wailing for long when she heard the rustling of grass. “P-papa?"

A man almost stepped over her as he walked through the grass. “Oh! Um....no...I'm not your uh...your dad kid....are you....um...are you lost or...?" The man asked, crouching down to get a better look.

She nodded,sniffling before her tears coming back full force. “I want Papa!"

“Woah woah woah! N-nononono don't do that! Stopit Stopit!" The man stammered, waving his hands around frantically. “Look look I'll help you find your dad kid! Just don't do that! Please stop!"

“You....you mean it?" She whispered.

“Yeah." He blinked, as though he was just as surprised as she was.

She glanced around skeptically, before holding out her pinkie finger. “Promise?"

He blinked again, before sighing and rolling his eyes skyward. “Are you fucking serious?"

Demi ignored the strange word to instead thrust her pinkie in front of his face. _“Promise?"_

The man sighed again, before wrapping his own pinkie finger around hers. “Yes, small child, I promise."

She huffed as she let go of his finger, before holding her arms out to be picked up. “I'm Demi!" She beamed as he picked her up with another eye roll. "Whats your name?"

Looking at her from the corner of his eye, he huffed again before smirking. “Jean. My name is Jean."


	2. A Stroke of (Un)Luckiness.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jean learns the hard way that there is no bargaining with a child.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WELL HI! I'm surprised people read this...please, continue...

What was he _doing?_ What _in_ _the_ _world_ was he _thinking?_

“Question of the year.” Jean scoffed at the irony. He and several other people had been asking him from the moment he picked up a camera.

“What?” The little girl clinging to his neck asked, pausing in her chattering.

“Nothing, kid.” He sighed, pausing to look around. Which way was the lost children booth again?

“Demi! I told you my name is Demi!” The kid- _Demi_ -huffed as she pulled his ear sharply.

“Ow!” He yelped slightly, not expecting the sudden sting. He turned to look at her, narrowing his eyes. “Why did you do that?!”

She shrugged, patting his ear. “You keep forgetting my name. So I thought that would help you remember.” And with that, she continued to rattle off about something or other. Maybe he should introduce her to Hanji. They could probably find something to talk over, and never stop. He blanched at the thought of them actually never stopping. He’d probably get stuck in between them with his luck.

“Hey ki- _Demi_ ,” He actually caught himself when she raised her hand towards his ear. “What does your father look like?” He might as well look out for the man as he walks.

“Oh! Papa is reaaally taaaall!” She stretched out her hands in a demonstration. “Like you! And hes wear a black coat like you too! But its longer! And Papa doesn’t look like you. He looks more like me! People say we look a lot alike! I guess-I mean-We both got speckles,” She patted her cheeks and nose and Jean realised she meant her freckles. “And pretty black hair! Papas is always so _soft!_ But we can’t braid it. It ain't long enough like ours! And-and- wes all got the same eyes!” Jean realised that the more excited Demi got, the less proper english she spoke.

Jean rolled his eyes skyward for the hundredth time that day. _‘So some freckled faced man with black hair, dark brown eyes. Great! Totally not vague. Probably just some loser father who spoils his daughter to no end.’_ Though, the kid didn’t seem too bad. Just a chatter box.

“OW!” Ok. Revoke that statement. She's a spoiled brat who likes to pull on ears. “Would you stop doing that?!”

“Its rude not to answer my question!”

Jean could feel his cheeks turn red at the fact he was being scolded by a toddler.“Oh...um...what was your question?”

“Why do you got a camera?” She asked again, pointing to his camera, which dangled from his neck by the strap.

“Well, I was taking some pictures in the field we were just in.”

“Why?”

“Because I thought it looked nice.”

“Why?”

“Because I liked how it looked?”

“Why?”

“Be-....Ooooh _no_. I am not playing that game.” Jean refused to be sucked into such childish games.

To his surprise, Demi giggled, holding a hand to her mouth as she was caught red handed. “Papas usually goes five more questions before he catches me.” Jean caught himself laughing with her, but quickly cleared his throat as they got looks from an elderly couple. Not on of distaste, but of admiration, like they were a sweet family going for a walk, and the couple found it cute. Which reminded him that this girl was _not_ his child and somewhere, this girls _actual_ father was probably having a fit, probably thinking about how he was going to explain this to his wife.

Coughing slightly, he sagged in relief as he caught sight of the bright blue booth. “ _Ok_. Well, I think that I’m just going to drop you off at the lost children booth with the nice person who will help you find you dad and I’ll jus-”

Demi was suddenly clutching his shirt collar so tight, he almost choked.

“NO! You promised you’d help me! _You_ gotta help me find daddy! You gotta! You promised!” Demi screamed into his ear, making him wince. He was going to go deaf. That elderly couple was no long looking at them like they were cute, but in sympathy. Maybe, if he tried hard enough, they could read the silent plea for help on his face. He paled further as Demi began tearing up again. “You lied! Liar Liar Liar _Liar!_ ”

“Ok! Ok _alright!_ I’ll help! Just please stop!” He felt like _he_ was going to cry in a second. Why did people want to become parents again? Demi immediately loosened her grip and laid her head on his shoulder. He sighed, absentmindedly rubbing the sniffling childs back. If he couldn’t just ditch out and run, what could he do?

“First things first.” He grumbled as he shrugged out his phone. “I need some help.” Dialing the number, he moved to a more secluded area of the park.

“Who are you calling?” Demi asked, sniffing even as she looked curiously at the phone.

“A friend.” He grunted, bouncing his foot slightly in impatience. This seemed to pacify the girl for now, since she laid onto his shoulder, closing her eyes as she waited.

Jean started bouncing in place. “Come on, come on….” He scoffed as the voicemail lady came on. “Blah blah blah…..come on!.....I just wanna leave a fuckin’ message!....” He rolled his eyes before pulling the phone away and hanging up. Scrolling through his contacts, he began pacing. “Pick up. I know you are together….its a _Saturday_.... _Iknowyou’realltogetherpickup!_ ” He stopped hissing at the device when Demi wiggled in his arms. “Sorry.” He let out another cuss as the phone signaled a busy line. “Answer the phone! I’m important!”

“Jean?” Jean almost jumped a mile high as a female voice answered the phone suddenly.

“Mikasa! Hey! _Heeeeey!_ ” He lost his train of thought. Damn it.

“Jean listen, now isn’t a good time-Eren slow down!”

“ _NO!_ MY GODCHILD IS IN _DANGER!_ ”

“You're driving too fast! I’m worried too but you are overreacting!”

“I AM _NOT_ ARMIN!”

Jean froze, squinting at the air, trying to imagine what was happening on the other side of the phone. “ _Godchild_?” He whispered. He knows he’s been out of touch for a while, but since when was Eren a _god parent?_ And who in their right mind would want him as one?

“Armin take the phone! Eren-I swear to _god_!”

There was a brief gap before Armin was sighing into the speaker. “Sorry. We’re having a slight family issue.”

“A FAMILY _CRISIS_ ARMIN! _CRISIS_!”

“Right. Crisis.” Jean could hear the sarcasm dripping from Armins lips. “So what do you need?”

Jean began bouncing again. “Well I’m sorry, but I need you for just a second.”

“I’ve got time.”

“Ok. SO….I um...I’ve got a kid.”

“What? Since _when?_ And with _who?_ ”

Jean shook his head furiously. “Nononono shes not _mine_ -”

“If shes not _yours_ , whose is she? Are you babysitting?”

“Is Jean kidnapping children now?!” Eren screamed over the sound of arguing. “Gimme the phone! Jean, are you kidnapping people now?”

“Aren’t you supposed to be _driving_ , asshole?” Jean sneered into the speaker, patting Demi on her side as she squirmed more.

“Mikasa kicked me out of the drivers seat.”

“.... _How?_ ”

“Not important. What _is_ important is _you_ kidnapping children.”

“I didn’t! I found her in a field, crying her eyes out!” Jean defend himself.

“Ooookaaay...so you _took_ her?”

“I- _Jesus_ -put Armin on the phone.” Jean heard another scuffle, before there was a small amount of car sounds in the background. “Hello?”

“Speakerphone.” Mikasa voice drifted into his ear. “Talk.”

“Ok, so I’ve found this kid right? And she was crying cause she was lost, so I promised to help her find her family, but then I tried taking her to the lost kids booth, and she, like, pitched a fit, called me a liar and everything. So now, I need to find her dad, on her basic description of almost every male I’ve ever seen, minus the freckles. I mean really, black hair, dark eyes, kinda tall, freckles, black coat? I’ve past twenty people at least two of those traits.”

Jean heard an impossibly loud screech of brakes, as well as several cries of surprise, before the entire car went silent.

“You’re shitting me.” Eren seemed extremely disbelieving at his story.

“No way.” Armin agreed.

“I….I just…” Even Mikasa was at a loss.

“What?” Jean didn’t think he’d said anything that weird. “Thats what happened!”

“No, Jean just-...Is the girl there with you?” Armin spoke up again, sounding tired and relieved.

“Yeah?”

“Can you put her on, please?”

“Uuuh _sure?_ ” Glancing over to his shoulder, he chuckled at the sight of the little girl, who was trying and failing to stay awake. “Hey...my friend wants to talk with you.”

Demi mumbled something unintelligible, but opened her eyes anyway. “Whoisit?”

Jean smirked as he turned it to speakerphone for her. “Yo, you can talk now.”

“Demi? Honey is that you?” Mikasas voice was softer than Jean had ever heard, and it surprised him so much, he took a minute to realize what she said.

Demi perked up immediately, making to grab for his phone. “Miki!”

The was a collective sigh of relief on the other end. Jean, on the other hand, was going through several different emotions, and paling rapidly as his brain raced to catch up.

“Hi Sweetie. I’m happy you’re safe.” Armin sounded like he was about to burst out laughing. “I can’t believe _Jean, of all people,_ found you first.”

“Army!” If he wasn’t already conflicted, Jean would’ve burst out laughing at Demis nickname for the blonde.

“I’m so glad you’re ok!” Eren seemed to have finally relax. “Wait…” Nevermind. “Jean...what are you doing in Shiganshinain?…..Wait...you…..so that means…. _YOU_ KIDNAPPED DEMI?!”

“NO I DID _NOT!_ ”

Demi made a sour face before pulling Jean ear again. “Stop shouting!”

“J-Jean.” Armin was actually laughing now. “We’ll meet you in a second, and then well make sure Demi gets back to Marco- thats her dads name by the way.”

“NO!” Demi screeched right in Jean ear. “Jean needs to take me to daddy! Or else hes a liar! And you all are meanies!”

“Ok Demi! Jean will go too!” Armin immediately backtracked. “Sorry Jean, looks like you’re going to have to meet Marco yourself. Demi won’t let this one go if you don’t. It’ll take, what, maybe five minutes of your time?”

Jean let his head tilted back as he thought it over. Not like he had places to be. “Alright. I don’t mind, I guess.”

Demi suddenly straightened, as if she remembered something important.“Oh! Army! What does fucking mean?”

Jean felt himself turn twenty different shades of pale. Maybe he'd let that word come out loud than he'd thought.

“I don’t know who will punch you in the face first Jean.” Armin quipped after a full minute of silence. “Marco, Eren, or Mikasa...who knows maybe Christa will get to you first.”

Jean felt his stomach sink and twist into a knot as he let out a groan. Today just wasn't his _day._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Pray for Jean.


	3. Heros and Food

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jeans a Hero, Marcos thankful, and they both are rusty on their social skills.

   

* * *

   To say Jean was nervous was an understatement. In fact, he was just kind of a ball of nerves at the moment. He didn't want to meet this guy. He didn't wanna be yelled at for taking this guys kid. Even if the man understood that he was going to take her to the lost and found booth, there was always, always, the possibility that he’d be blamed for something in this situation. _‘Why didn't you try to look for me? Why did you think taking her would be a good idea? Why did you make any sort of promise to her? Why did you teach my child **a swear word?!** ’_

So. Yeah. He was ready to drop this kid, apologize, and hightail it in the _opposite_ direction.

If she’d _let_ him, that is.

 _‘Honestly, where the hell do children get their inhuman strength from?_ ’ Jean asked himself as Demi readjusted the grip on his shirt collar. She was determined not to let go, not since they’d gotten off the phone with Armin, who said to meet them at the play area near the front of the park, where the _(Nervous? Angry? Scared?)_ family would be waiting. God this child is gonna give him gray hairs, and she’s not even his kid!

He blanched as the giggling of children floated into his ears. He’d arrived at his doomsday destination. He paused to look around and realized that it was a rather beautiful place, for being filled with a bunch of loud, snot nosed children. The sun was high in the clouds, casting rays of light onto the ground below, causing the slowly color changing trees to cast calm shadows onto the ground and faces of people, the soft crisp wind of very early fall causing the trees to dance.  Jean felt a soft smile crawl onto his face at beauty of it, his photographer's eyes picking apart the scene and pinpointing places where he could take pictures to capture the hidden world.

“Why did we stop?” Demi mumbled, tugging on his collar. She let out a loud yawn before resting her head on his shoulder, though her eyes remained open.

“I’m just looking for your dad.” Jean lied, no feeling like playing twenty questions at the moment. He squinted as he looked around for the freckled man. “Do you see him?”

“Mmmmmm…” Demi lifted her head, putting a hand over her eyes as she looked around, looking a lot like a look out of a ship. “Nope.”

“Very helpful, Captain.” Jean mutter with a roll of his eyes. He returned to his search, determined to find this mystery father.

“There!” Demi suddenly cried, jerking forward so fast she almost fell out of his grip. She was smiling widely as tears gathered in her eyes, her finger pointing off to some shaded area.

“Where?” Jean echoed, eyebrow raised as he followed her pointer finger. He didn’t see- _Oop there he is_. It was kind of amazing that Jean hadn’t spotted the man earlier, considering he was the very picture of stress and unease in the otherwise peaceful park. The man, looking pretty much as Demi had described, was pacing around, talking fast to a small blonde woman, who was bouncing a little blonde toddler on her hip and smiling reassuringly. The man paused, running a shaky hand through his hair, and shaking his head and Jean felt a stab of sympathy at the devastated look on his face. Obviously, the man was heart broken over his missing daughter.

Jean let a heavy sigh escape his lips as he tilted his head back to gaze at the sky. He took one more moment to try and collect himself, before squaring his shoulders and looking ahead. “Lets get this over with.” Demi pulled at his shoulder to try and get him to go faster.

“...I’m so scared. I’ve _already_ screwed up so much, Christa, and its only been _two_ years.” The man was finishing as Jean walked into ear shot. “I can't-.....The girls are _everything_ to me.”

“Marco Bodt, you have not screwed up!” The woman, Christa, chided.  “You’re doing _everything_ you can! You’d take on the world for those girls! You are a fantastic father.”

“What fantastic father loses his child?” The man, Marco, sounded miserable.

“Children are hard to take care of.” The words were out of his mouth before he knew what he was saying. He clamped up immediately when the two parents turned to stare at him. But they quickly focused in on someone else.

“Demetra!” Marco gasped as he ran up to the girl, who practically flew out of Jeans arms and into her fathers.

“PAPA!” Demi cried in joy, burying her face into Marco neck as she let out heart wrenching  sobs.

Marco wrapped her in his arms as tight as he dared, falling into a kneeling position. “Thank god you’re alright.” He continued to mumble into her hair, letting out some shaky breaths in between.

Jean felt like he was intruding on a personal moment, almost like he’d walked into the main character big scene in some movie, when he was just supposed to be some background character. Glancing around warily, he began inching backwards. He honestly didn’t want to stick around and wait for the feelings of joy to wear off and be replaced by god knows what. “So...um..I’ll just-” He was cut off by a hand snaking out and grabbing hold of his arm.

He paled as he glanced down at the man, who was looking up at him with an unreadable expression. _‘Oh god. Here comes the yelling….did they tell him about the cursing thing? Oh hell, am I going to get punched? Shitshitshit **shit**_ ’ Jean leaned back slightly and cleared his throat. “Ok look...I’m sor-”

“Let me take you to dinner.” Marco blurted out suddenly.

“....” Jean stared, wide eyed, for several seconds, his face heating up as he processed the other man's words. “Huh?”

“Smooooth.” The blonde whispered in the background.

Marco himself had the decency to blush slightly, but he smiled all the same. Standing, he let go of Jeans arm. “Let me say thank you. I...don’t think I can _ever_ …really show you how grateful I am that you saved my daughter, but I think dinner would be a nice start.”

Jean blinked again, his mind screeching to a halt at the words. _‘Thank you?...Saved?.... **Dinner?'**_   He shook his head, stuffing his hands into his jacket pocket. “L-look I’m….I just _found_ her a-and I was gonna take her to the lost children thingy but….. _look_ I’m no hero ok?”

“Yes you are!” Demi cried, wiping her eyes as she glared at him, her nose red. “You got me back home with Papa! You are a hero! You’re my hero!”

Jean laughed a bit at the girl, trying to ignore the fact that his cheeks were burning. “I just-”

“You helped Demi, when you didn’t have to.” Marco smile grew, lighting up his face. “And I can’t thank you enough for that.”

“Thanks…” Jean was not avoiding eye contact because he was embarrassed. Nope. Marcos smile was just too bright. Hurt his eyes.

“DEMI!” Another high pitched sequel cut through the air, and Jean look behind Marco to see….a clone of Demi running full speed towards them.  Oh god there was two?

“IVY!” Demi screamed, a smile illuminating her face as Marco put her down, just for Ivy ran smack into her, knocking them both to the ground.

“ _Careful!_ ” Marco hissed in concern, watching as the blonde set the tangle of giggling girls back on their feet, patting them down best as she could with only one hand. Marco smiled at them, before turning back to Jean. “So, um...what do you say? It, um, might actually be home made, now that I think of it-but still! My treat.”

Jean actually really wanted to say yes, because _hell_ , he tired of hotel food and take out. Homemade sounded like heaven...but… “I don’t think the Mrs will appreciate me stepping in on dinner night.” Jean gestured to the little blonde who was patting down the girls hair.

Marco blinked, following his gesture to the woman. His shoulders shook for a minute, and Jean was concerned that he’d brought something up he shouldn't have, but when Marco turned back to him, he had a large smile on his face, trying to hold back his laughter.

Jean started, surprised by the emotion, but then he felt his blush creep up to his ears, unsure of how to react. “What?!”

“N-no no! I’m sorry!” Marco sputtered out, bringing a hand up to his mouth to try and cover his laughter. “It’s just that-pfft...that's my _sister-in-law!_ ” With that he began laughing loudly, as though it was the funniest thing in the world. “Oh _god_ Ymir would dry-heave.”

Jean pulled his hands out of his pockets, so he could cover his face in embarrassment. “Of fucking course she is.” Jean felt his eyes widen at his own words, snapping his head up to look at the other man, waving his hands wildly. “I mean- I- _freaking! Freaking!_ Not...not that other word…”

If anything, Marco began to laugh _harder_. “I-I’m s-sorry! I-its okay! I just-” He took a moment to adjust himself, clearing his throat, giggling every once in awhile. “It alright. I know about the swearing thing, Armin told me. Its fine, I promise. You don’t have kids of your own right? It’s hard to adjust to having to use kid friendly language so suddenly. I’ll just tell her its not a good word, don't worry. Besides, their mother was no better. She was a woman with a sailors mouth.”

Was.

She _was_.

Jean cleared his own throat, not ready to infer anything just yet. Maybe the mother had just fixed her mouth, yeah? “So...it really wouldn't bother anyone? If I ya’ know...had dinner...at your house?”

“No. Demi already likes you, so Ivys sure to follow. And I’ve got no problem with it _sooo_...unless the house itself comes alive and decides it hates you, you’re all good.”

It was just Marco and the girls. No one else to brother.

Jean shook his head, knowing that for whatever reason the woman was gone, this man did not want or need pity. So he smiled at the freckled man. “Well, I hope it doesn't. I don't have any dynamite to shove down its chimney.”

Marco blinked at him for a second, before he burst laughing again. “Oh my god! Did you just make _a Monster House reference?!”_

“Yes.” Jean tilted his chin up in pride. “Yes I did.”

“Hey! Horseface!”

Oh goody.

Eren was walking up to them, Mikasa and Armin trailing behind. As soon as he got within range, Eren opened his mouth, and Jean prepared himself for a yelling match right in the middle of the park. Sometimes, when Erens mad, nothing could stop him.

But before either of them could yell anything, Marco had put an arm in front of Eren, stopping him short. Eren closed his mouth in surprise.

“Eren, Jean saved Demi. Don’t yell.”

There was that word again. Saved. “I didn-”

“Why does everyone-I wasn’t gonna yell.” Eren griped, throwing his hands up. “Sure, I’m a little pissed, but I just want to talk to Jean.”

Marco gave him a suspicious look before dropping his arm. Instantly, Eren lunged forward and wrapped an arm around Jeans neck, pressing his other hands knuckles into his hair. “So how ya been two-tone? Haven’t seen you in a good three years!”

“Eren!” Jean hissed, glaring as he pulled at the others arm. His small smile might have negated that though. “Let me go!”

“Nah! I’ve got three years of torture to make up for! Might as well start now!” Eren sneered, but pulled away. “But seriously, where have you been, man?”

“Hmmm, I was down in Trost this last year, but the other two years, Hanji sent me out to Greece, Italy, Germany, and Hungary.”

“Wow.” Armin joined the conversation, opening his mouth in slight shock. “Hanjis got you going everywhere. I'm jealous!”

“Determined to make me see the world through the lens of a camera, that's for sure.” Jean shrugs with smile, picking up his camera and waving it around. His boss is crazy, yes, but he wouldn't trade this job for anything.

“So why’d you come here, of all places?” Marco asked, shoving his hands into his coat pockets. “Don’t get me wrong, I love it here, but its definitely not Italy.”

“No. No its really not. But, this place is beautiful, and I’m on a ...vacation of sorts.” Jean shrugged again, glancing around the park with a laugh. ‘Vacation my ass. Still gotta work.’ “I've had trouble, uh, finding my ‘muse’ I suppose. I dunno, my mom says I gotta relax and take photos of what I love.”

“What do you love to take pictures of?” Marco tilted his head curiously.

“People.” Jean responded automatically. There was a slight pause before Jean blanched. “I-I mean-!”

“Way to creep people out Jean!” Eren called over his shoulder, as he went to go look over the twins, Armin swatting his arm as he followed.

Jean let out an unintelligible garble of words as he felt his face radiate heat. Marco was once again laughing at his expense.

“Ok. Ok, what do you mean by people?” He questioned once he’d calmed down.

Jean huffed, grabbing at his neck as he looked away. “I like capturing moments of people...if that makes any sense. Not like, posed or anything, just daily life. I like…” He felt his face heat up even more. “Capturing happy moments in time….” There was a second, before Jean threw his hands up to his face. “God that's so fucking stupid!”

“No, it’s not!” Marco immediately defended. “That's talent! I can barely take a picture of the girls without it coming out blurry and weird! You being able to capture moments like that is a gift.”

Jean looked at the freckled man through his fingers, before letting out a laugh and dropping his hands. “You are so melodramatic.”

Marco blush, ducking his head sheepishly. “Sorry.”

“No, no. Its fine.” Jean laughed, waving him off. “No need to apologize. You’re a lot like your daughter. Both seeing the best in a lot of things, photogenic, melodramatic, freckles.”

“Photogenic?”

Jean nodded, ignoring the blush on his cheeks for the moment. “You and your daughters look like those who would take naturally to a camera...sorry its my photographer side talking.”

Marco chuckled, rubbing at his neck. “Thanks.”

“Oi!” Jean jerked to look at the group gathering under the shade of the tree. Another freckled woman was looking at them with a smirk. “If you keep letting all that blood rush to your face like that, you’re gonna pass out!”

 _“Ymir!”_ Marco groaned, rubbing his face in embarrassment.

Jean was going to answer with a smart ass comment of his own, when the buzzing of his phone alerted him that Hanji was trying to get to him. Digging through his pockets, he opened his phone to multiple texts popping up from Hanji.

  **From: Boss-Hanji**

_‘JEAN! JEAN SOS! WHERE ARE THOSE PICTURES?!!!?_

**From: Boss-Hanji**

_‘LARGE ANGRY CLIENT BITCHING ABOUT NOT GETTING HIS DAMN PICTURES! HELP!'_

**From: Boss-Hanji**

_‘I NEED PICTURES!’_

**From: Boss-Hanji**

_‘HES YELLING AT LEVI! SHITS GON GO DOWN! I DON WANNA CLEAN BLOOD OUT OF MY NEW OFFICE! OHGOD ERWIN JUST STEPPED IN! WHO GETS THIS MAD OVER PHOTOS JFC’_

‘ **From: Boss-Hanji**

_HES YELLINGAT ME!!11!!SOS SOS SOSSOS!’_

“Shit.” Jean hissed. He’d forgotten to email them last night. Turning back to the freckled man, he gave a nervous, apologetic smile as he began backing away slowly. “My boss needs me to email her some photos, I've gotta run back to my hotel! Sorry!”

Marco blinked, before shaking his head. “Its fine! Hey, are you still coming to dinner!?” He called as Jean began jogging away.

Jean hesitated for one second, before smiling over his shoulder. “Sure! You can get my number from Armin! Just text me when!”

“Ok! See you around, Jean!”

And even though he almost got ran over by a biker because he was too busy smiling at the freckled family, he found himself really glad he’d decided to pull his ass out of bed and go to the park today.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jesus there are suddenly many of you guys. Sorry for the bit of lateness.


	4. Of Dinner Dates and Old Hags

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Jean once again saves Marco without realizing it, and Reiner is politely pissed off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: Homophobia and really not nice Grandmother. I'm not joking.

* * *

"So its like a dinner date, right?”

Marco jumped a mile high as his sister poked his cheek, make him nearly spill the red sauce onto the counter. _“Ymir!_ Stop sneaking up on me!”

“No one was sneaking up on you! I tried to grab your attention, but you were too busy dreaming about tall, lanky, and awkward to notice!” Ymir teased.

Marco sputtered on his words, his face heating up. Finally he took a deep breath and turned back to the brewing sauce. “Its not like that Ymir. You know that. Its just a thank you dinner.”

Ymir tilted her head, a default sneer across her face. “Don’t normal men, like bro-hug it out with some _‘No-homo’_ shit?”

She was teasing him. He knew that. He knows she didn't mean anything by her words but Marco still felt his grip tighten on the edge of the counter. He steadied his breath as best as he could. But Ymir still caught on. He could feel her staring into the back of his head. _‘Don’t ask Ymir. Not today. Please don’t bring that up today.’_

“Hey.” She scoffed and boxed him over the head when he didn't turn to look at her. “I love you.”

Marco blinked at the sudden softness in her voice.

“I love you. Christa loves you. Ivy, Demi, Armin, Eren, Mikasa, Connie, Sasha, Reiner, Bertholdt, Annie....….Everyone…..we love you….you know that, right?”

Marco turned to fully stare at the freckled woman. She was glaring at him, but she was chewing on her lip, like she always does when shes worried. “Ymir wha-”

And then her smirk was back in place, an eyebrow raising in a classic _‘Ymir’_ look. “And you know we’ll curb stomp some bitches for you right?”

Marco deflated, the mood no longer serious. “Why do I associate with you, you psychopath?”

“Ah but brother, if _I_ am a psychopath, then so are _you!_ For the same _dark_ blood runs through these cursed freckled veins.” Ymir dramatically draped an arm over his shoulder, her other hand going to her forehead.

“Technically, our veins aren't freckled.” Marco pointed out, shifting slightly at the extra weight, as he continued calmly stirring the spaghetti.

Ymir opened her eyes to glare at him, flicking his ear. “Shut the fuck up, don’t ruin my fuckin’ moment.”

“Language!” Christa hissed from the living room.

“Sorry!” Both freckled siblings flinched at the tone in Christas voice.

Marco turned to Ymir with wide eyes. “You’re wife is scary.”

Ymir laughed, rustling Marcos hair, and dodging his swiping hand. “One of the many, _many_ reasons I love her.”

She did a double take at the clock on the oven, before walking out into the living room. “Christa, baby, we better head out. Its almost five!”

“Is it really?!” Christa gasped, before she gave the girls a kiss on the forehead and ushered Andy to the hall.

Marco followed the three to the front door, snickering as he watched Ymir struggle with her son, who was sitting on the small hallway bench, kicking his feet as his mom put his coat on.

“Why is this so complicated?” Ymir grumbled, gently shoving the small boots onto the smaller feet.

Andy raised his hand, bopping Ymir on her nose. “Wrong foot Mommy.”

“Wha-” Ymir looked down to see that he was right, his boots pointing out the wrong way awkwardly. “Aw shh-ship.”

Andy tilted his head, but smiled as Marco began to laugh.

“Shut it Marco.” Ymir hissed fixing the shoes as Andy played with her hair.

“You should've seen it when she put his coat on backwards.” Christa piped as she smiled at the two. Ymir made no acknowledgment of hearing her, but the tips of her ears had turned red.

“Alright. Andy say bye.” Ymir huffed as she stood up, Andy on her hip.

“Bye bye!” Andy grinned down at the girls, who waved back with smiles of their own, before waving at Marco.

“Byebye.” Marco echoed as he kissed Andys forehead, which he wiped away with a disgusted face. Marco then kissed Ymir on her forehead, and Marco swore she made the same face as her son as she wiped it off. Christ stood from hugging the girls and kissed him on the cheek.

“Bye Aunties!” The girls chimed with a smile, holding onto Marcos pant legs.

“Bye darlin’s. Love you all. Have fun on the dinner date, baby brother.” Ymir gave a wicked grin as Christa opened the door, the girls hiding behind Marcos legs at the cold air. “But, ya know, you might wanna change. Just sayin’.”

Marco looked down at himself as the door shut and groaned. His purple pj pants and worn out blue t-shirt weren't the best ensemble for dinner.

* * *

Marco had just finished taking the bread out of the oven, when the doorbell chimed. He checked his watch. 5:40. Just a little bit early. “Coming!” He quickly turned everything onto a lower setting, so nothing boiled over while he was gone.

The girls giggled as they raced to hall, dashing around his legs effortlessly. He remembered when he’d almost trip over backwards trying to avoid them. _‘Ah yes, the terrible crawling/walking phases. I remember when Jessie-’_ He stopped at the door, hand an inch from the doorknob.

“Come on Papa!” Ivy whined, tugging at his black jeans impatiently. “I wanna meet John!”

“Its Jean, honey.” Marco correct as he finally put his hand on the doorknob. Taking a deep breath, he swung open the door with a smile. “Hey! Just in ti-” Marco cut himself off, his smile melting off his face. The girls whimpered and Demi actually backed up to hide behind his leg.

“Well?” The old woman snapped impatiently. “Aren't you going to say hello? And for heavens sake, Demetra, step out into the open where I can see you!”

The girls lined up in front of him, bowing their heads. “Hello Grandma.”

“Mrs. Hails.” Marco blinked, but did not move an inch from the door way. “What are you doing here?”

Mrs. Hails sneered at him. “I am here to check on my grandchildren.”

“I’m sorry.” Why was he sorry? She wasn't invited. “But I’m having a guest over tonight and-”

“Slacking off when you should be working?” She cut him off immediately, her distaste showing. “Aren't you having money problems?”

“Papa?” Ivy’s tone was questioning, and he didn't dare face her.

“Ivy, take your sister to the living room.” Marco whispered as he patted their hair. Ivory nodded slowly, before grabbing her sisters hand and going back down the hall.

“That is no way to talk to children.” Mrs. Hails tisked, and Marco resisted the urge to call her out. Just seconds earlier she had snapped at Demi. But he simply bit his tongue and took a deep breath.

“What is it you _actually_  want, Mrs. Hails?” Marco gritted out between his teeth. She never stopped by to just see the kids. She always wanted something, even if it was just to make Marco miserable.

“Rude to your children, leaving dinner unattended, and disrespectful to your elders.” She clicked her tongue, before digging through her purse. She held out a white envelope to Marco, who took it slowly, as if it was a bomb ready to detonate. “This is the paper work.”

“Paper work for what?” Marcos voice shook as he stared at the envelope.

Mrs. Hails tsked at him again. “All you need to know about the legal rights and the check ups.”

Marcos head snapped up to look the old woman in her eyes. “Check ups?”

“They’ll send an agent over to see how you take care of the girls, or lack of, rather. How your income is and so on. When they deem that you are not capable of taking care of them, then the process of switching the girls out of your _corrupted_ care and into my care will start. And the girls will finally be where they belong.”

It was one of those days, huh? Where everything was his fault, where he deserved to be hammered into the ground by cruel words and a crueler reality of the fact that he couldn't find it in himself to stand up to the old bat. Because….

_‘What if shes **right?’**  _

The light was fading quickly, and the cruel darkness was settling in. Marco wished he could fight it...but it was so hard to do it alone.

“Hey!” A new voice suddenly cut through the dark and pulled Marco back to the present. And when he caught sight of blonde ashy hair and caramel-golden eyes, he felt like he could cry. “What the hell is going on?!”

Mrs. Hails turned so fast, Marco wondered if she got whiplash. “And just who do you think you are, young man?!”

The blonde man shrugged with a smirk. “Just Jean Kirschstein. No one special. Now answer my question, because to me, it seems like you are terrorizing Marco.”

“Why I _never-!_ ”

“Mrs. Holt!” Marco watched as the old woman twitched at the booming voice who, just as always, got her name wrong. “Great to see you!” Reiners was smiling, but Marco could see the way his shoulders tensed. Not nervous. _Angry._ “Looking _lovely_ as ever!”

Mrs. Hails sniffed, turning her nose up at the man. “I see you brought your new _boyfriend_ with you today.Tired of the old one already?” If Mrs. Hails saw the way Reiners hand clenched into a fist on the roof of his car, she did not acknowledge it. I hope you are not the guest Marco has invited hang around my grandchildren.”

“Well, Mrs. Hag.” Reiner chimed cheerfully as he made his way to the front door step. “ _First_ off, I was just dropping off Jean here, _secondly,_ I am still with my  _fiance_ , Bertholdt, who's _in the car,_ actually. And lastly.” Reiner didn't even try step up onto the porch, Mrs. Hails just came up to his eye level while she was on it. And he used it to his advantage, staring directly into her eyes as he smiled tightly. _“ **Marcos** children **love** having me around.”_ He stepped back as Bertholdt began honking the car horn in warning. “Excuse me, Mrs. Bells.”

Mrs. Hails scoffed. “This is exactly why I need to take the girls away. As if the girls need you…. _homosexuals_ ….around. Having one for a _father_ is bad enough.” And with that, she stormed to the sidewalk, getting into the passenger side of some car, which then drove off, leaving the trio in awkward silence.

Marco brain was racing a mile a minute, not prepared for any of this. Turning Jean, he opened his mouth to apologize. “Jean I-”

“Who's the bitch?” Jean questioned with such a straight face that Marco began to stutter on laughter.

“Mrs. Hails. Resident hag and homophobic. Practically the only one in this fucking town, I swear! Only bitch that gives me grief. I swear if I wasn't such an upstanding member of society, I’d give her a piece of my mind, old woman or not!” As if it was the only thing holding him back, Reiner tapped his police officers badge strapped to his chest.

“You just threatened an old lady!” Bertholdt hollered from the car, window rolled down.

“I showed no intent to harm! And its not like I would actually hit her! Just get her off Marcos property!” When Berts face remained the same, Riener switched his tactics. “She deserved it baby! Nobody disses my fiance and gets away with it! And what's she gonna do? Hit a police officer? Report me to my boss? News flash! My boss knows how she is! And everyone knows Marco isn't a horrible father and she's just upset that her daughter married a man who has the capability to love another man! _Everybody_ knows. ”

Bertholdt simply deadpanned, shaking his head slightly as he rolled up the window.

Reiner sighed with a smile at the tinted window, before looking back a Marco. “Hey, I gotta go. My shifts starting soon, a Bertls got some art class thingy to go to.”

Marco fist bumped the blonde man goodbye, smiling when he rolled his window down again.

“Ya know, I could always arrest her for trespassing or something. Boss man knows she's on your ass recently.”

“Nah, I’ve got this.”

“I don’t believe you. I’ll be lookin’ out for you, Bodt. Us homos gotta stick together.” Bertholdt slapped the back of the blondes head with a command to _‘Drive.’_ and a _‘Bye Marco. I’m sorry for his idiocy.’_

With that, the police cruiser went off onto the street, leaving Jean and Marco alone.

“Jean-”

“Are you about to apologize?” Jean interrupted again.

“Um-”

“Because, if you are, _please don’t._ I get it. Kind of….” Jean shook his head. “Gay?”

“Bisexual?” Marco corrected, though it kind of sounded like a question. It was in all honesty. He’s never taken the chance to just…. _think it through_ ….not since….

“Guess I should've figured.” Jean shrugged as he walked into the house. He shrugged off his coat and hug it on a peg. “Cozy little place you've got here.”

“So are you…?” Marco let the question hang in the air.

Jean blinked, before a smile bloomed on his face. “Homosexual through and through man. Sorry if that...weirds you out or something.”

“No! Nonono not at all!” Marco rushed, as he scurried into the kitchen, making sure dinner was still dinner. “Its just that…”

“Didn't expect it?” Jean asked, as he traced a pattern on a plate. “Neither did I, really. But it’s who I am so…” He shrugged again. The smile dropped suddenly, and Jeans eyes fogged. Marco knew that look. He’d seen it many times before on other faces. On his own. Jean was remembering something he didn’t want to.

“Jean?” He cleared his throat to grab the others attention. When Jean finally looked up at him, Marco smiled and gestured to the living room area across the hall. “Would you mind grabbing the girls?”

“Not a problem.” Jean nodded, before leaving Marco with the dinner. Marco chuckled as the cries of _‘Jean!’_ Floated out of the living room, followed by a strangled cry of surprise.

“Watch out,” Marco called after him, even though he knew it was too late. “They tend to team-tackle.”

“Gee _thanks_.” Came the sarcastic reply, followed by several slow _‘Thump...Thump.’_ s

Marco turned around and snorted at the scene he was greeted with. Jean was struggling to walk back into the kitchen with two smiling five years stuck to his legs.

“Why is it?” Jean wondered as he swung his right leg, causing Demi to let out a squeal of delight. “That you seem to _love_ laughing at my expense?”

“Because it gives me a lot to laugh about.” Marco answered as he bent down to look the girls in the face. “Alright, my little koalas, release Jean so he can sit at the table.”

“No!” They both giggled, clinging tighter to Jeans legs.

“Come on now. If you don’t let go, I'll have to make you.” Marco waggled his fingers at them.

“No!” Demi laughed again, Ivy nodding in agreement through her giggles.

“Alllllright then, you asked for it.” And with that Marco launched a full on tickle attack on the girls sides. They immediately released their hold, going to fend off the attacker, Jean quickly moving away once he was free. “I’m gonna getcha! I gonna getcha!” Marco chanted as he continued, the girls holding onto their stomach as they laughed, twitching and kicking in an attempt to get away from the wiggling fingers.

“N-no stop-hahaha! _Papa!_ St-aahahaha-p!” Ivy stuttered between her laughs, Demi simply shrieking in laughter.

With a hum, Marco stopped and scooped both of them into his arms for a hug.”I love you both so much.” The girls instantly wrapped their arms around his neck. They always needed this after Mrs. Hails came to visit.

They giggled a few more times, letting out winded “Love you”’s every once in a while.

Marco blushed as he made eye contact with Jean, who was looking at them with a soft smile. Marco ducked his head in embarrassment. “S-sorry about that.”

“Its fine!” When Marco looked up, Jean was blushing as well, but still had that smile. “I was staring...but you know….that's the kind of stuff I like to get photos of.” He continued when Marco only tilted his head. “Moments of pure joy like that. That's what I love to take pictures of.”

“Is Jean gonna take a picture of us?!” Ivy gasped suddenly.

“Is he?!” Demi echoed. “I wanna be in a picture!”

“Me too!”

“No, Jean isn't going to take a picture of us. Taking picture of things and people is his job.” Marco explained with a smile.

“I mean I could.” Jean offered, before backtracking quickly. “I-If you _wanted_ to I mean- I do kind of need t-to work, and I need to turn an album to my boss-I mean-It _technically_ won't even be a huge public thing-I- I could p-pay you if you want to do it, but you don’t have too-I mean-!”

“Jeans getting really red.” Demi whispered, only she whispered across Marco to Ivy, so it wasn't really all that quite of a whisper.

Ivys nod of agreement only managed to make Jean turn redder and cover his face.

“So you just......take pictures of my daily life?” Marco questioned.

“Yes...no? Kind of-sort of?”

“Sure.”

Jean blinked, peeking through his hands. “Huh?”

“Sure. I don’t mind it. And you said the girls and I photogenic right? So...sure. I...I _would_ appreciate a pay though, if you could.”

Jean dropped his hands completely. He stared at the freckled man for almost a full minute before disbelieving smile covered his face. “I can’t figure you out, Freckles.”

 _‘Neither can I, really.’_ Marco smiled as he put the girls into their chairs, who then just chatted among themselves excitedly. “Well, we’ll be working together from now on, so you've got time.”

“Yeah I suppose I do….Ugh.” Jean groaned as he picked up his plate. “Hauling my aaaa-self…” He coughed to cover his save. “from the hotel to here is gonna run up my taxi fares so much.”

“You could just stay here, ya know?” Marco pointed out as he began to fill the girls bowls with the noodles. “I’ve got an extra bedroom. All I ask is a little rent money, not much, just enough so that I can feed all four mouths instead of just three. 20 bucks when I go grocery shopping or something.”

Jean nearly dropped his plate, by luckily had quick enough reflexes to catch it. He proceeded to stare at Marco again, as if he’d lost his mind. “How do you know you didn't just invite some _psychopath_ into your home?”

“I kind of don’t, _buuuut,_ ” Marco drawled as he began to cut up the spaghetti. “Armin told me you went to high-school with pretty much everyone, so I don’t think you could be any more psycho than Eren or Reiner.”

“You've got me there.” Jean agreed. “But still, we barely know each other.”

“Well,” Marco sighed, as he put the bowls in front of the girls. “I suppose we’ll just have to trust each other then.”

And when Marco turned back around, Jean was smiling brightly, though he still looked like he couldn't believe it. “You sir, are crazy.”

Marco simply crossed his arms and smirked. “Runs in the family.” _‘In these cursed freckled veins.’_

“Well, then.” Jean huffed out a laugh and set down his bowl, before turning and offering his hand. “Marco, its going to be a pleasure working with you.”

Marco smiled and took the offered hand. “Alrighty then.”

“Are you gonna come eat or what?” Ivy barked impatiently, determined not to eat until her father sat at the table with them, even though Demi already had red sauce all over her face.

And as the night continued, Jean simply seemed to click right into the little broken family, and Marco, for once, had no trouble pushing down the darkness that usually followed a visit from Mrs. Hails. But every once in a while, he’d glance over to the counter, and catch sight of the stark white envelope, and he’d get a twisted feeling in his gut. But then Jean would crack another joke or spill out some reference and the twins giggling would bring him back from the edge.

It wasn't much. But it was his own happy world at the moment. And he’d take advantage of every second he had, before the dark reality could creep back up on him.


	5. Personal Space.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jean really hates getting too close, but he can't stand to be alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: ITTY BITTY PANIC ATTACK. more like hyperventilation, but its quick, its the build up I'm worried about.

Moving in with the Bodts was….surprisingly easy. Marco was more than welcome to help him pack his belongings, _(which consisted of two suitcases of clothes and such, and another suitcase solely for his camera equipment.)_ and help him drag everything into the loving home. The girls had been overjoyed when they had figured out Jean would be staying with them, if only for a little while longer. Jean had repeatedly thanked Marco and promised to pay a rent of twenty dollars every two and a half weeks,   _(It had been a compromise between every week and every four weeks.)_ since he was still getting a check from his boss. Jean was even allowed to hang pictures around the guest room, which only made him feel as though he owed the freckled family a whole lot more.

So every morning, he got up and to help the girls get ready for school, claiming that _‘A guy with two jobs **and** two kids, needs a break every now and then. The least I can do is like, pour them cereal or something.’_ Marco had been thoroughly surprised, and his silence had caused Jean to lose confidence. _‘I mean, ya know, if you don't mind me doing it that is. I-I-I understand-’_ Marco cut him off with laughter, repeatedly saying that it was fine as long as Jean could handle the pickiest children on earth.

And thats how the schedule went. Marco and Jean getting up early to prepare the breakfast and get ready for the day, chatting softly before the girls came running down the stairs to join them. Jean would also walk the girls to the bus stop when Marco had to leave earlier. Jean still quite figure out the freckled man, but he did know one thing for certain.

“You’re too nice.” Jean said, three and a half weeks after he’d moved in. Marco had just come down stairs, now fully dressed in his work clothes but still sporting bed head and yawning.

“Huh?” Marco grunted between yawns, leaning heavily on a counter as he went to start the coffee maker.

“I’ve already started the coffee. And I said, you’re too nice.” Jean stated again, as he grabbed down two bowls from the cabinet. “You’re like a saint. Too nice.”

Marco snorted. “I hardly think I’m a saint.” He yawned again before reaching over Jeans head to pull down a mug. “Want some?”

“Sure, Freckled saint.” Jean chuckled, before pulling back. He looked around for a second, before grabbing his camera off the counter. “Mind if I get some early morning pictures?”

“Right now?” Marco questioned as he began to detach the coffee pot. It hadn't been the first time Jean had randomly asked to take pictures, but it never ceased to surprise him. “The girls aren’t even down here yet.”

Jean nodded, scratching his cheek.  “I know, I know but I think I should get some pictures of just you….if you don’t mind.”

Marco laughed softly as he poured the coffee. “Jean, I really don’t mind at all. The pictures you've gotten so far are amazing.”

Jean tucked his head closer to his chest to hide his red face, though he was smiling. “I just...press a button.”

“And yet you keep managing to catch these beautiful moments. Don’t underestimate yourself Jean.” Marco turned to the blonde, steaming mug clutched by the handle in one hand, the other hand laid on the edge of the counter. “You’re amazing.”

Jean let out an strained chuckled at the compliment, rubbing his hand over his burning cheeks. “Ok, ok, enough with the praises Saint Marco. I need to get some pictures in before the girls come running.”

Marco chuckled, but complied, doing what he’s been told to do during these impromptu photo shoots. Which was just 'continue what he was doing.'  Jean lifted the camera to eye level as the man sipped on his coffee. He hesitated for just a second, staring at the man on the other side of the camera, who lifted their eyes to meet his. Marco lowered his mug just enough to give a smile around the rim, and Jean took his chance and hit the button.

“That all?” Marco asked, moving to pour Jean his own cup. “Rather short. But I’m sure you got a good picture. Wanna keep going?”

Jean clicked his tongue as the freckled man turned back around to face him. “Hang on, this is gonna bother me.” And without thinking too much about it, Jean reached forward to smooth a stray cowlick. He grunted as it caused more hairs to stand up. Placing his camera to the side he lean up to get a better look, using both hands to ruffle the rest of the hair. “Dammit, your hair is stubborn.” He was too focused on trying to smooth over the hair that he didn’t pay much attention to anything else. Until, that is, Marco huffed out a breath and Jean felt it blow over his face.

He froze, afraid that he’d offended Marco by getting so close without consent. But as he slowly turned his gaze to the other, he found Marco to just be staring at him, seemingly as shocked as he was. They didn’t move for what felt like forever, simply just staring at one another.

Marco let out another slow breath, surprise wearing off to be replaced with confusion.

Jean finally snapped out of it and stumbled away from the other man, practically ripping his hands out of the other mans hair as fast as he could, his face beet red. “Sorry! S-Sorry! Personal space! I-Jus-Uh-JuFffu-” Jean broke off into a nervous peel of laughter, though he almost felt like he was going to start crying. _‘Dumbass dumbass dumb-dumb-dumb! He probably thinks you’re a joke now, great, good going you fuckin’ MORON! You promised you weren't going to do this shit again!’_

“Hey...” Marco wasn't even laughing at him like he'd expected. Instead, he was looking at him with worry in his eyes. “Are you ok?”

“I’m fine! Just…” Jean shook his head, before turning around to start heading up the stair. “I-I’ll go get the girls.”

“Jean…” Marco voice had him hesitating. “Hey, its fine. Whats wrong?”

Jean stopped on the first step, turning to look at the freckled man again. “Its nothing Marco. Lets just drop it, ok?”

Marcos eyebrows furrowed in confusion as he stepped forward, hand reaching out towards Jean. “If you wanna talk-”

“I _don’t._ ” Jeans reply was so sudden and cold that it cause Marco to step back. Jean looked away. He felt guilty, but..... “Just drop it alright?”

Marco opened his mouth to say something but Jean was already running up the stairs.

* * *

 

“Armin, I _fucked up!_ There's nothing else to it! I fucked it up, like I always do!” 

“Jean-”

“This morning was a fuck up. My job’s a fuck up. My _life's_ a fuckin’ fuck up! _I’M_ a fuck up!” Jean threw his free hand in the air as he sat down on the couch, his screams echoing around the, now empty, house. It’d been empty for a while, which gave Jean plenty of time to think, which is never a good thing. “I’m so _pathetic_ , and useless and-and- I can’t, I-I-just-I _can’t do this-_ Armin, I-Oh God, I _can’t_ -!”

“Jean!” Armin snapped, causing Jean to shut his mouth. _“Breath!”_

Jean squeezed his eyes shut and sucked in a breath through his nose.

“Breath. You are ok. Everythings alright. Just _breath_.”

Jean let out a slow breath, counting down from ten. “I’m...I’m ok.” Though it still felt as though he was running a marathon.

“Good...good...can’t have you hyperventilating when you’re all alone and I’m twenty minutes away.” Armin let out a small laugh that held a bitter lining. “ _Now_. Let me smack some sense into you.”

Jean started at the sudden change in Armins voice.

“Stop beating yourself up over this. Believe me, you are just fine. Marco does not hate you, nor is he uncomfortable.”

“You dont-”

“No, trust me, if I know _anything_ , I know Marco.” Armin was reassuring but it didn’t clear all Jeans worries. “He won’t think badly about you….but you should probably talk to him when you get chance.”

“No way!” Jean cried, jumping to his feet. “I’m not about to make this any worse than it already is!”

“I didn’t say you had to talk about _that_ , just that you should talk to him. Now, I don’t know what he thought about that situation as it happened, but what I do know is that he more than likely thinks he did something wrong, and thinks he’s to blame.”

“But he’s not!” Jean groaned as he flopped back onto the couch.

“Well, _I_ know that, and _you_ know that, but _Marco_ certainly doesn't.”

“ _Great_. So what do I do?” Jean asked, throwing an arm across his face.

“Play some games with him.”

“Excuse me?”

“I’m sure he misses being able to relax. Its going to be the weekend and the girls are staying the night at a friends right? So it’ll just be you and him. So just play some games with him, let him know he’s done nothing wrong. Though you might wanna check to see if it still works. Marco has barely _touched_ that gaming system since the day he found out Jessie was pregnant.”

Jeans nose scrunched up at the unfamiliar name. “Jessie? That his wife?”

“.....Yeah, she was.” Armins tone had died down into a solemn one.

Jean hesitated for a second, removing his arm from face. “What happened?”

“...A car crash. Thats all I can say.” 

Jean licked his lips and glanced around. “How...how did they meet? Jessie and Marco, I mean.”

Armin sighed around a chuckle. “They meet during the beginning of their senor year. Marco had just move there a month ago, a week after you’d left actually, and when they meet they just...clicked. They quickly became that… _‘it’_ couple, ya know? But I….”

“...You?” Jean prompted.

“Its nothing. Hey, I gotta go. Don’t forget to talk to Marco alright? Just be cool, and try not to freak out. He’s not mad Jean.” Jean could hear the sad smile in Armins voice. He really didn't want to hear it.

“Alright. Bye, Armin. Thanks for talking to me, by the way.”

“No problem...hey, Jean?”

Jean flinched, knowing that tone. It was the _‘I **know** somethings up, so you better tell me.’_ “Y-yeah, whats up?”

“You haven’t….You haven’t been talking to _them_ …...have you?”

Jean cursed his luck at Armins brain and quick reflexes. But then he was thanking all his lucky stars when there was a knock at the door. Jumping to his feet, he silently praised the heavens for the diversion. “Hey- Armin, I gotta go! Someones at the door!”

“Jean-!”

“Yeah, ok, gotta go! Thanks for the talk, bye!” Jean could feel bad about hanging up on him later, when his heart wasn’t pounding in his ears. He calmed himself before opening the door, though he still was kind of breathing heavy as he swung it open.

Standing there was the same freckled woman from the park. Marco sister, Ymir,  if Jean remembers correctly. They stood there blinking at each other for a couple of seconds. Jean glanced around and noticed the bags of food in her hands.

Jean shifted on his feet. “Uuuh, can I help you?”

Ymir blinked again, before a sneer slowly spread onto her face. “I forgot you were here.”

Jean deadpanned. “Who did you think was here? The girls are at school and Marcos at work.”

Ymir snorted as she pushed her way into the house, dropping the bags on the bar counter as she went . “But its already five right? He should be off by now. And since hes _not_ here, and the girls are staying at a friends-”

“How do you _all_ know the girls are going somewhere?” Jean questioned as he followed her into the hall.

She held up her phone, not evening turning to look at him. “We’re all on a schedule, that way we know if the girls need to be looked after. Anyway, before you _rudely_ interrupted me. Because its already four and Marcos not home, I bet your ass that he took up some overtime.” She let out a large groan of annoyance as she plopped “Which I _always_ tell him not to do, and yet he always does anyway!”

“Why does he work so hard?” Jean asked, leaning on the entrance to the living room. Hey, if she’s talking, might as well get some answers.

“Because trying to keep a two story house, pay off bills, and give your twin daughters the world, all at the same time, can end up being expensive.” Ymir huffed, rubbing her face. “He needs to slow down. He’s got money, and he’s got us.”

Jeans eyebrows furrowed. “Too proud to ask for help?”

“Proud and stubborn.” She nodded, though she had craned her neck so she was looking at the ceiling. “Though I’ve been slipping some cash into his bank recently. I’m sure he notices but we’re both too thick-headed to say anything.”

 _'Too proud to say anything, huh?'_ Jeans self doubt was defiantly there, but he shoved it to the back of his mind for now. He rocked on his heels after a minute of silence. “Soooo-”

“Do you like my brother?” She was so abrupt with her question, Jean almost fell over in surprise.

“HUH?!”

“Do you. Like. My brother?” Ymir asked again, moving her head so she was staring at him.

Jean swallowed around the lump in his throat. “Well, yeah, he’s a nice guy and all-”

Ymir rolled her eyes as the sneer came back onto her face.  “No. Do you, _like_ like him.”

Jean felt like a stop light suddenly. “What are you, five!?”

“Nah. Now answer the question.”

“We’ve only known each other for like, three weeks!”

"You’re avoiding the question.”

“No! Look-I just-I-”

Ymir stood up quickly, all looks of joking replaced with an intense glare. She moved so quickly and looking _so very much_ like she was ready to punch him in the guy, that it caused Jean to back up into a wall.  “Listen here two-tone. I don’t care if you do like him, really I don't. Marco's perfectly capable of handling his own relationships. But if you hurt my baby brother, I swear on _every_ living thing in existence, I will _personally_ curb stomp you so hard, you’ll be eating concrete for _years_. Understood?”

Jean held up his hands in surrender. “Yes ma’m!”

“Good!” Ymir smirked at her accomplishment, before backing off. “Tell Marco I stopped by will ya? And, for the love of everything, make sure he eats the dinner I brought.”

Jean let out a sigh of relief as she walked out the door. Going over to the bags, he began to rifle through them and realized something.There was enough food for at least three people.

He smiled slightly. “I thought she forgot I was here.” And suddenly, he felt just a little bit less alone in the empty house.

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about taking so long with this, and it being kind of short. Schools a butt.


	6. Human emotions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marcos digging a deep hole, kids.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for the wait! And ohmygosh this is getting way more likes than I ever thought it would! Thank you all so much!

* * *

By the time Marco had made it home, it was well after dark. He rubbed at one of his eyes as he unsuccessfully tried to shove his key into the correct slot. After gathering enough intelligence to put the key in and twist it the right way, he let his body fall forward to push open the door.

The hall was lit by a small table light, as it always was, but strangely enough, there were no signs that Ymir had forced her way in, although the regular take out food bag was on the counter. He snorted softly. “Maybe she finally learned to use a key.”

Looking around, he felt strangely empty. “I’m home.” He called weakly, knowing no one would answer. The girls were gone, the house was empty.

“Welcome back. Finally.”

Marco jumped a foot in the air, slamming his back against the wall of the hallway. His house usually didn’t greet him _back_.

“What the hell was that?!” A brash voice questioned as a figure stepped into the hall. And as Marco caught sight of the tawny eyes looking at him in concern, he remembered.

 _“Jean.”_ He breathed out. He’d forgotten about him. “I-I…” Oh shit. He’d _forgotten_ about him. “Ohmygod I completely forgot you were here!”

Jean visibly deflated. “Oh.”

Marco mentally kicked himself, his face heating up in embarrassment. “That was rude-I just meant that-I mean-I’m just kind of tired-”

“Marco its fine.” Jean let out an airy chuckle, waving him off but refusing to look at him. “I’m a stranger in your house-”

“No you’re not!” Marco hurriedly jumped in, grabbing Jeans shoulder so he would look at him. “You’re a friend! _My_ friend!”

Jeans eyes widened again. “O-Oh.”

“I mean it Jean!” Marco insisted giving Jean a tiny shake for good measure. “I know it may be a little weird but I consider you to be a really close friend! I shouldn’t just forget about you like that!”

“Thanks.” Jean shrugged, though a slight smile fell on his face. “I can tell my mom I’ve finally got a friend.”

“Oh come on.” Marco laughed, pushing Jean shoulder. “You’ve got more friends than just me.”

Jean just shrugged, but the smile that rested on his face didn’t quite reach his eyes.

Marcos own smile faltered. “Jean? Is something w-”

“Hey! Your sister stopped by today!” Jean interrupted, pushing past Marco and grabbing the food off the counter. He held it up like a trophy. “Free food!”

Marco blinked but let it go. As much as they were friends, they were also complete strangers. Marco had no business poking into Jeans problems….but that didn’t mean he wouldn't worried.

“Free food is the best food.” Marco smiled, picking up a container box. “Was Ymir nice to you when she stopped by?”

Jean let out nervous laugh. “Well...it was, ah…. an interesting visit, to say the least.”

Marco smiled fondly at the thought of his sister. “Shes...well she rude, pushy and aggressive. And protective. But...she means well, I promise. As long as you don’t try and go after her family. Then she’ll kick your ass.”

Jean let out a dramatic gasp. _“Marco!”_

Marco tilted his head, looking around. “What?”

“You...you actually said a cuss word!” Jeans dramatic act cracked as he started laughing. “Sorry sorry, I just don’t think I’ve heard you cuss so casually before.”

Marco blinked, trying to remember when he’d let a cuss word slip out so easily. He laughed a bit. “I suppose you’re just that bad of an influence on me.”

Jean laughed with him, but started rubbing the back of his neck nervously. “If you’re not... too tired, can I be even more of a bad influence?” Jean jabbed a thumb in the direction of the living room.

Marco lifted an eyebrow in confusion, but followed Jean into the other room. He blinked at the tv screen and the game system it was hooked up to. “Holy...you found my gaming station.”

“Armin told me where it was. Told me you haven't really been able to play since….anyway, I haven’t found a game yet, I thought I’d let you pick since its your place and gaming stuff. A-and if you don’t want t-to I understand-”

Marco cut him off with a hug. “Thank you. I really needed a break.”

“You’re welcome!” Jean squeaked.

Marco pulled back with an apologetic smile. “Sorry, sorry! I didn’t mean to crush you.” Jean just smiled, though his face was a dark red. Marco blinked a bit before he remembered.

_‘Sorry! S-Sorry! Personal space!’_

“Oh! Sorry!” Marco wanted to hit himself in the head. How could he have forgotten this morning!

“Sorry?” Jean questioned. “For what?”

“Invading your space….again.” He smiled tensely.

“What?” Jean stared in confusion for another minute, before something clicked and a look of embarrassed horror crossed his face. “No! Nononono- That’s not-! That was _my_ fault! I just-" Jean cut himself off, huffing as he pinched the bridge of his nose. After a couple of seconds he looked back at Marco. "....I just... haven’t really been…..close enough to people recently, to really know what.... personal space is….I’ve kind of gotten out of touch with my…” Jean gestured with his arms at the space between them. “People skills.”

A silence settled between them, Marco not quite sure what to say, and Jean looking a bit like a kicked puppy that needed a hug. Or wanted to run. A little bit of both.

Marco smiled as he patted Jeans shoulder.  “Well...I suppose I’m out of touch with my people skills too. Maybe we can teach each other how to be socially acceptable again.”

Jean laughed, running a hand through his hair. "Yeah maybe we can freckles......S-so, you wanna play some games?"

* * *

 

And that's how the next couple of hours went. Playing different games until they found a good one, talking and pushing each other around. They even broke out a case of beer that Ymir had, ever so generously, provided after finding out about Jeans plans. ( _Jean nervously admitted to calling her for help in finding all the correct cables.)_

Now they sat laughing at nothing, Marco only slightly buzzed, while Jean was well on his way to full out drunk.

"YA know what, Freckles?" Jean blurted out, pausing their game. He turned to face Marco, poking his cheek. "You're....too nice.....to me."

"Oh am I?" Marco questioned, highly amused at Jeans actions.

Jean nodded with a hum. "I dont....I don't deserve your niceness...or the girls niceness...I don't deserve to be here.....I'm a worthless asshole..."  With that, Jean let out a bitter laugh and put his head in his hands.

Marco openly gaped at the man, the sudden change causing him to sober up. "Jean? What are you talking about?! You're _not_ worthless!"

"Of course I am!" Jean shouted curling into himself. "I cant....I can't do _anythin_ ' right! I'm a piece of shit!"

"Jean...." Marco gently pried Jeans hands away from his face. Tears were making their way down his cheeks, but his eyes remained on the ground. "Look at me Jean...please."

Jean slowly lifted his eyes to stare at the man. "I'm sorry."

Marco smiled, a little confused. "Sorry? For what? Crying?"

Jean shrugged, sniffling and rubbing at his eyes.

"Jean. You are not worthless ok? It's not a bad thing to cry. You don't have to be this stone cold person that can take on anything. You don't have to do anything alone." Marco smiled fondly at him. "You've got us. Me and the girls, if not everyone else."

Jean sniffed again with a smile, opening his mouth to say something, when his phone cut him off by buzzing.

A text. Nothing bad right? But Jean was looking absolutely horrified, trembling as he reached for his phone.

Marco caught his hand before he could reach it. "Jean." He almost sounded like he was pleading but he didn't know for what. All he knew is that, whoever was sending these texts had scared Jean horribly.

Jean gently pulled his hand out of his grip with a shake smile. "Please, I just....I _have_ to see." And with hands shaking so bad Jean could barely hold his phone, Jean unlocked it and read the texts.

He seemed to go completely still for a full minute, sucking in shallow breaths, before he began shaking violently, as though someone had poured a bucket of ice water over his head without warning. Jean breaths became rapid, his face paling into an ungodly color of white.

"Jean!" Marco was no idiot. He'd spent the last couple of years searching up every possibility that could ever happen to his girls, so he knew what happening now. Jean was having a panic attack.

"..'msorry." Jean mumbled between quivering breaths. _"Imsososososorry!"_

"Jean, it's okay!" Marco insisted as he gently pried the phone out of his hands. "It's alright I promise! Breath...look at me." He grabbed Jean face with both his hands, pulling it up so they were looking directly at each other. "I'm right here. Don't worry about anything else, ok? It's just you and me."

It seemed like it was working for a moment, but then Jean glanced down at the phone and he was suddenly standing and backing away, out of Marcos reach. "No..... _no_...I'll just-I'll just- _fuck!_ I can't!"

Marco grabbed onto his hands trying to pull him back as slowly as he could. "Jean I promise-"

"No! God dammit Marco! Please just- _!_  I'll fuck up your life, please just let me go, before I ruin your life _please_ just let me be alone!" Jean was begging, trying to pull his hands away, but Marco could see the silent plea in his eyes.

It was a plea not to leave him.

So he didn't.

He stood up and pulled Jean into a hug, bringing him close to his chest. He felt the blonde tense in his arms, still trying to pull away, before he broke down.  Marco was well aware of the protective feeling curling in chest as Jean sobbed into his shirt.

He honestly wanted to find the person on the other side of the phone and cave their face in, but for now, he'd have to settle for humming random songs and rubbing patterns on Jeans back until the broken sobbing slowed.

He closed his eyes, resting head on top of a fluffy mess of blonde hair, trying his hardest to close off the rest of the world.  Jean rested his head onto his shoulder, still sniffing, but quieting.  

"Hey..." Marco whispered after a couple of minutes. He smiled at the small sound he got in return. "Maybe we should just go to bed, yeah?" Jean mumbled something that resembled a _'yes please'_ , too emotionally exhausted to do anything more.

Slowly unwrapping himself from the blonde man, Marco swiftly hooked and arm under Jeans legs and another around his back, and pulled him up, the other man's arms automatically wrapping around his neck. He was somewhat surprised at how easy it was to lift the Jean into his arms and how he was willing to accept it.

Marco quickly walked down the hallway into the guest room, nudging the door open with his toe. He stopped for a moment to look at the room in awe. Jean had decorated it with pictures of his trips, some of the pictures of places so exotic they didn't even seem real. _'Their as amazing and stunning as the man in my arms.'_

Marco almost dropped said man at that thought, but managed to place him on the bed before he could. _' **Woah** there, Marco. Don't dig yourself into that hole.'_

Even as he thought this, he smiled at Jean, who was drifting into sleep. Hesitating slightly, Marco reached out a hand and pushed a lock of hair away from the others face, who blinked up at him in a tired daze. Marco smiled softly at him, before he began to pull away, ready for bed himself.

His hand was caught by Jean, who looked slightly more conscious now. "Stay. Please. For a few minutes please I don't..."

Marco was a bit surprised, but got into the bed none the less. He wasn't about to leave Jean alone now.  "Ok."

He quickly pulled the covers over them, pulling Jean closer into a hug. Jean tensed for a second before relaxing with a deep breath. They laid together in the dark for a couple of minutes, Marco even began to drift off to sleep, before Jean broke the silence.

"Marco?" He whispered, as though scared to ask. "What....what was she like?"

Marco turned to look at Jean, confused. "Who?"

Jean took another breath. "Your....your wife."

Marco sucked in a deep breath, feeling as though someone had just stabbed his heart with a icicle.

Jean seemed to sense his change, as he quickly scooted away from him, shaking his head furiously. "I'm sorry. I-I don't know why I- sorry, you don't have to answer-"

Marco cut him off by pulling him back into his arms. "It's...it's fine." Marco began rubbing patterns into Jeans back again, but more for his own distraction than to comfort the other man. "Her name...was Jessie. She had been my best friend in high school. She was amazing and creative and....God I loved her." He hadn't talked about her in so long, and the feelings were coming back to hit him hard. "I dont even really remember when we started dating. I mean, everyone said we'd make a perfect couple, and I guess one day we just said _'Alright then. I guess we're dating now.'_  And when we graduated we just stuck to it and things started moving faster. We got married at age nineteen, both got jobs at age twenty and the girls were born the next year. Everyone said we had the dream life, the one everyone wishes they could have....but I...."

"...But you...?"

Marco took a deep breath. He'd only told a few people this before. But he trusted Jean. "As much as we loved each other and as much as we loved the girls...we were never truly happy." Marco squeezed his eyes shut. "I think...I think we were just trying to please everyone, do what _they_ thought was best...but...I realized...we couldn't love each other like we should've been able too. We loved each other as friends, we'd do anything for each other, and we never regretted the girls but..."

"You didn't love each other like _that_...."

Marco nodded his head. "And so one night we sat down and had a talk, and that's when I told her I was gay. That I'd been gay since freshman year." He laughed like he had told a horrible joke. "I thought she'd hate me, kick me out and never let me near the twins again but....she just smiled and said some stupid joke about how she knew I'd been staring at the football players instead of the her when she was cheering at games."

"So...what did you guys do?"

Marco moved to start running a hand through Jean hair. "We agreed to not try and have a fake marriage anymore. We planned to have a divorce, agreeing that we'd still be best friends as well as loving parents to our kids. Her mother....Mrs.Hails.....oh god she _flipped_. Called us insane and wouldn't talk to her daughter for weeks on end, and when she did call, they'd argue for hours. And then..."

Marco tried the swallow around the lump in his throat. "One day, after having a really nasty fight with her mom she....she went out for a walk, even though it was dark already...I told her not to but she said it would help calm her down, promised she'd be fine...and so I let her go..... a-and just a couple hours l-later I....I got this call." Marco rubbed his eyes as he struggled to steady his breathing. "A-a-and it was a doctor....they said....they told me that Jessie had been....been hit by a drunk driver...just down the street."

"Oh god...Marco-"

"I just didn't believe them at first, ya know? I called them a liar and...and hung up but....then....Mrs. Hails called....she wa-was yelling a-at me.....telling me th-that her daughter was..... _dead_.....because of _me_.....a-and I realized how very alone I was....I-" He let out a small, shuddering sob. "She promised me she'd be ok,Jean...She-"

Jean grabbed one of his hands. He seemed to be at a loss for words, so he settled for wrapping his arms around the shaking man, just like he'd done for him not even an hour before.

"Marco....I suck at...at being around people...and emotions.....but... ...but maybe....maybe you and I........Maybe we can teach each other what it means to......to not be alone?"

Marco wrapped both his arms around Jean, still shuddering and a few tears escaping, but smiled anyway. "I think...I think we can try..."

And as they drifted into sleep Marco had a sudden realization.

 

_'I'm digging myself into a really deep hole...and I couldn't care less.'_

* * *

 

****  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ....sorry not sorry.

**Author's Note:**

> So this is my first thingy for this fandom but I like the way it came out. Thanks for reading! :D


End file.
